An illustration for the poem Untitled:
Untitled
The pages remain
Waiting to be fed
Ink waiting to be shed
Where nothing has been lain.
Your paper remains
White as your fingers once
Buried in the earth
That inhabits my chest
Buried in this snow
That erases each trace
Every trait of your face
In me.
You shall never be gone, you shall never come back
I forgot the name, yet you still remain
Forever buried
In the snow that fell
One day
Thanks to zoffoli for posting this on Tumblr.